Hannibal - Plus One
by GhostyMcBuster
Summary: Follows the Hannibal film - before the ten year separation of Clarice and Dr. Lecter, a single visit resulted in a son made of them. Now ten years later Dr. Lecter is living his freedom in Florence, but a single child tourist shows striking resemblance between himself and Agent Starling. The young boy gets caught up in the most dangerous events leading to learn his true heritage.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hi everyone, so this is my first story so please please pretty please me nice to me. This is following the movie Hannibal with one added extra character, as the title sort of suggests. So…hope you like it and fancy leaving your opinions at the end, I don't mind. **_

_**Hannibal – Plus One **_

_Clarice Starling allowed a hiss of relief to enter the hospital room as the pain, which had encased her, passed, only to result in the sounds of the cries from the huddle of nurses at the foot of her bed. Four hours and seventeen minuets of contractions and pain had resulted in the small bundle one nurse held – weighing a total of seven pounds and three ounces. Even with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, strands of hair managed to cling in sweat across her brow as she began to regain her normal breathing pattern. All the way through she'd been alone – no man by her side who was the father of her child; he was long gone. One month after the Jame Gumb case he had visited her, a night where she abandoned her duties which she had craved and slaved for in result of a night of passion which resulted in months of a much healthier lifestyle and fall back from potentially dangerous cases, before a few months of loss of work as she was forced to stay at home with mounds of paper work and a swelling abdomen. With regular visits from Ardelia she kept herself social. Even Jack Crawford had given her the odd brief visit during her absence from the Bureau. As the nurse holding the pale blue blanket began to move away from the room, Clarice felt her arms stretch out in longing before she could deny her action – she made the nurses, doctors and the adoption agency representative swear to keep the child away from her as soon as it were born, but her motherly instincts begged her to reach for the new born, but they kept their promise; she didn't need to make it all the more difficult than it already felt to be. The nurse didn't look back on her (just as promised) as she left the room with the wriggling bundle in her arms. As the cries left the room Clarice was left with her own thoughts that normally occupied her mind during sleepless nights. He hadn't contacted her once during the whole pregnancy. Did he know? Was that why he was avoiding her? Did he realize the mistake he'd created and fled? Or did he not know? Had he simply left the country to lie low, unaware of the changes Clarice was experiencing? _

_She may never know. All she knew was that after than one visit he's paid her after everything that had transpired, there was now a piece of them both in the world that neither of them could have – Their son deserved a life free from the pain he'd receive at being the son of the cannibalistic serial killer. _

_The son of Hannibal Lecter. _

It wasn't often Clarice thought of her son's birth. No..._their _son's birth. Clarice's eyes snapped open to be greeted by the crowd of sweat drenched agents surrounding her within the metal casing of the juddering truck. If the event arose in her mind, Clarice always found herself imaging what he'd look like. But now was not the time. She pushed aside the feelings and memories as she sat up within the truck, focusing her mind on the task ahead of her.

**XXX-xxx-XXX**

All the way on the other side of the world, in the heart of Italy, tourists were pouring down the streets of Florence. Amongst this crowd was a young couple in their thirties, drinking in the splendour around them as well as keeping an eye on the young figure several steps ahead of them. The heat bathed the people of the city, stifling and all breezes welcome, creating the perfect weather to relish in along side the culture they sunk themselves into. The small American family crossed a widely populated square, where numerous acts were taking place in front of a large historic looking building, a clock tower perched neatly on top. The clear mother of the family directed her husband up several stone steps to the deserted entrance to the building. The husband called the young boy over who abandoned his interaction with a group of nearby pigeons to meet his parents.

'It's the Capponi library, are we allowed to go in?' The mother asked as she moved towards the door.

'It's a history library. You're a history teacher; you probably know everything that's in there already.' Her husband stated as with one hand he lit the cigarette in his mouth and the other held the hand of his nine-year-old son by his side. The woman was far from satisfied by her husband's answer and took the opportunity that was approaching in the form of a slightly older man in a well-tailored black Armani suit and topped off with a white fedora.

'Excuse me?' The woman asked as her son rushed to her side and swung on her arm. The man turned around, his maroon eyes gleaming in the sun of midday.

'Yes? May I help you?' He asked with a far from Italian accent, more close to their own American accent, but with much more of a sophisticated air about him.

'Is this library open?' The woman smiled in a pleasant way to the older man as she wrestled her son who was becoming bored and agitated with standing around in the heat for too long. 'I would enjoy learning about the local culture and maybe have my son here learn more of what's around him.' The man's maroon eyes fell from the woman to the boy being held back by his mothers arm, sweating in the sunlight.

'I'm afraid the library isn't open to the public for the time being. They are attempting to find a new curator. I myself have applied but the job is yet to be set.'

'Oh.' The woman's face fell. 'Well maybe next time. Thank you.' The woman nodded in a respectful manner which the man returned as she followed her husband. He watched them leave before turning back to see their son still standing there, watching him with slight curiosity. The man studied the boy's face to be met with matching maroon eyes. His eye colour wasn't common and the man supposed the boy wasn't used to seeing someone with the same, resulting in his curious stare. The child was a rather small stature; pale ivory skin told him of his first time in extreme heat, explaining the sheen of sweat donning his head beneath a mop of ebony hair.

'Anthony!' The boy's mother called him but he did not respond, as he continued to stare. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, known as Dr. Fell, matched the boys curious stare before the boy broke and ran off to join his parents. The boy grasped his father's hand once more and followed them down the steps. Dr. Lecter watched as the boy glanced back once more before they merged into the crowd. Dr. Lecter straightened the hat atop his head before merging into the crowds himself, contemplating the idea that for a second – but no matter how brief – he could have sworn on his new found freedom that he saw the faintest glimpse of Clarice Starling in the boy's face.

**XXX-xxx-XXX**

In the heart of her home, Clarice Starling wept due to the unneeded and unplanned ending of the Evelda Drumgo case. It was supposed to be an arrest. A bit of a struggle, not all the bloodshed and pain, for which she felt the majority of guilt of the events that had transpired. Not only had she lost her friend and former instructor John Brigham, she had also orphaned a child. Damn Bolton, if he didn't feel he needed to massage his hurt ego at having a woman in charge then the operation may have smoothed out, the odd hitch here and there as what was expected, but now there was a baby boy out there with no parents.

As she had rinsed the mother's blood from the wailing child, she could not help but imagine a different child in that place, a light dusting of ebony hair with ivory skin and maroon eyes, just as she's always imagined, water spraying over the blood of the killed, but not completely washed away.

Tears streamed down the Special Agents face as she sat at the table, knowing she had left another defenceless child alone in the world, to be brought up in a new life – whether it would be a safe or dangerous life, she did not know, all she knew it was her fault as guilt trickled in rivers down her face.

**A/N: I've never written a story to be posted online before so I hope this meets everyone's standards. I haven't gone into great detail on characters yet, but I will in the next chapter, if you all think this is worth continuing. Let me know and I'll update soon! **


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hey everyone! New chapter here! So thanks to the guys who've reviewed and asked me to continue this story! I hope I get the personalities right and if you have any suggestions please give me a shout. Just as a heads up, I picture Jodie Foster as Clarice Starling more, just because I saw her play Starling first and she and Anthony Hopkins make a great team, nothing against Julianne Moore, just incase you're wondering about the descriptions. Also I picture Asa Butterfield for Anthony but imagine whomever you like.**_

_**So anyways let's crack on shall we, hope you like it and feel free to let me know what you all think! I love feedback :P **_

_**Hannibal – Plus One **_

Florence was a city powered by its culture and history, thriving every day of the year. Many people ventured there to enjoy the fascinating history and weather around them, but Anthony Howell could not enrich himself with the history of the city he and his parents had vacated to; as a child of nine years who had spent his whole life in the low temperatures of the state of Connecticut, USA, the humidity and heat was unnatural and unwelcoming to the boy's system.

In a small, cheap simple standing hotel just outside the main attractions of Florence Anthony sat cross-legged on the ceramic tile floor, a book on Italian language in his lap, between a flickering television set and his father who sat on the sofa, furiously trying to do up his tie for their evening meal. Night time was Anthony's favorite time during the family's holiday: as the night was considerably cooler and the small breeze reminded him of the chill which would blast through his bedroom window, causing the comics and book pages on his dresser to ruffle, make his superman bed sheets ripple and the spin the loose dial on his telescope.

'Damn thing.' Anthony looked up from his book to see his father had made his tie ridiculously short. Anthony held back a small laugh and tried to return to his book but his train of thought had called in at a stop. Instead he focused his attention to the TV set which his mother had used for over twenty minutes to find a channel in English, finally setting on an American news show. A news reporter showed the footage of a funeral, which had taken place in the light of daytime America.

'…_Friends, family and co-workers gathered here today at Arlington National Cemetery to bury Agent John Brigham, shot and killed in the line of duty last Friday. He was forty years old.'_ Anthony watched as the coffin, draped with the American flag, was slowly lowered to the ground.

'_This ill fated drug raid which claimed his life and five others, is the latest in a seemingly endless series of incidents, beginning with Waco, Texas, in which the Justice Department and the FBI have been questioned on their use of firepower rather than judgment. This time it was FBI Agent Clarice Starling, heading out the strike force…'_

On the typical screen of the cheap television set, Anthony watched as the cameras crowded around the black car leaving the cemetery to peer at the brown haired woman in the back seat, as if she were to be the latest attraction for the paparazzi zoo. Camera's flashed, but the woman, Agent Starling, didn't make eye contact anyone. She may be the center of attention but did the paparazzi have to invade a funeral?

'Idiots, the lot of them.' Anthony's father muttered as he finally managed to lengthen his tie. The dark haired boy was not sure who his father referred to: the FBI, the Justice Department or the paparazzi, but instead Anthony just continued to watch the broadcast.

'_Agent Starling obtained some measure of celebrity ten years ago, when she was given information by Dr. Hannibal 'The Cannibal' Lecter…' _The American news reporter continued to go one about the events ten years ago before referring back to closer events, but Anthony's ears had shut down as his train of through picked up speed at the sight of the black and white mug shot photo the channel had shown. He had heard of Hannibal the Cannibal before, the older boys in the school playground used to make threats to the more annoying kids in Anthony's grade and below about how the Cannibal would eat them, along with many other threats.

Everyone had heard of Hannibal the Cannibal; when Anthony had first heard of the escaped convict he had feared the man to be beneath his bed at night until he grew some sense. But what shocked the boy most, was not the memory of sleepless nights with torches held in tight sweaty hands, no it was the picture; although black and white, it showed a great level of detail: enough detail to allow Anthony to see a horrifying resemblance with the Cannibal with the man whom he had encountered earlier yesterday, outside the Capponi library. The photo was ancient and blurred around the edges, but the striking resemblance sent the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. Before he could resist the urge, his hand reached out and switched off the TV set, just as his mother walked into the room, ready for their evening meal out in the heart of Florence.

**XXX-xxx-XXX**

In the darkness of early evening, a small restaurant along one of the many stoned streets of Florence was bathed in a warm yellow light, of artificial and natural flame. Breadsticks had been broken and devoured, dinners served and pudding bowls licked seemingly clean, now Anthony sat outside the small dinning area on the marble flooring, his Gameboy Colour in his hands, a dull and blunt attempt to distract him from his quiet thoughts as he thought back on the news broadcast.

Around him people spoke in fluent Italian, like stray transmissions he picked up a few words, one sentence caught his attention as he saw the addressed man walk by:

'_Have a pleasant evening Dr. Fell!' _Anthony was sure the translation he had made subconsciously had been correct, proving to be right as he watched the man leave the restaurant which his parents were currently indulging the last glasses of wine.

The man, Dr. Fell, was pulling on a large overcoat, despite the still present heat, as well as a fedora perched neatly atop his slicked back dark hair. As the man passed, candle light mixed with moonlight from the open roof of the plaza lit the mans face up, not only physically but also in Anthony's mind: Dr. Fell, the man from outside the Capponi Library…_he was Hannibal Lecter_.

The man may have been fortunate that the years since his mug shot had been kind to him, but it also made him more identifiable as the terrifying cannibal. Anthony watched, his device left discarded on the marble floor beside the shade of the plant pot he was perched on, watching open mouthed ever so slightly at the man who grew smaller as he moved further away. Before Anthony could stop himself he found his pale legs sprung from his cream shorts to move upon instinct to follow the man down the plaza into the open night air, past confectionary stalls and rapid Italian speaking locals.

Anthony's small legs moved at a noticeably fast pace in attempts to catch up to the escaped convict.

'_What am I doing! He'll kill me if he knows I know who he is!' _ Anthony's inner common sense tried to appeal to his movements but now he was free of the crowds and walking at a brisk pace through the streets, narrowly dodging a bicycle. In the heart of the Italian city his pale skin beneath his button up sky blue shirt and shorts stood out a mile with the tans and darker complexions of the locals, just as his maroon eyes always stood out in an eerie manner when he was angered. People paid him some attention, but he ignored it; ignore them then they ignore you, just like the young man also tailing the 'Dr. Fell' through the streets. This man made an effort to go undetected as he kept to the sidewalks: this just made him all the more noticeable.

Anthony slowed down by a few steps as he watched Dr. Lecter/Dr. Fell step into a hut to purchase a newspaper in English, making eye contact with the second stalker. The light of the stall allowed Anthony to watch as the man stayed behind Dr. Lecter besides a column, whilst Anthony continued to move in sync with the convict.

'_What do you plan to do when you catch up to him? You're not in the FBI, you're nine years old, there's no one else who knows who he is, he could skin you and eat you and nobody would know it was him.' _The voice in the back of his head pleaded with him to see reason and stop, to run back to his parents who would certainly be missing him by now. But no, he continued to follow the man down the street, the second stalker now several steps ahead of him, not casting back an eye to the small boy walking the streets alone.

Dr. Lecter led the two stalkers through and auction marketplace, art, drinks and souvenirs being sold off to the sound of a light rumble of live performed music. The Doctor stepped down the stone step pathway and stood still, beating the paper in his hand as he cast an eye over his surroundings. Anthony crouched down behind some decorated art canvas, his head visible if Dr. Lecter were to look down to knee level. From his place, Anthony could see the young man besides the group of musicians, shielded by a trail of steam from a nearby stall.

Dr. Lecter continued to move away and as the boy returned to his feet, not only did he see the young man, but he also noticed a much older man in a black coat, a similar tan to the young man trailing behind the two stalkers and the Cannibal. Anthony was certain he had seen the man back towards the restaurant, and was now convinced there were two other stalkers beside himself.

As they moved away from the marketplace, the young man managed to get ahead of Dr. Lecter, rolling up his filthy coat sleeve to reveal a shiny silver bracelet, which glowed in the moonlight and reflected the bustling crowds around them all.

The young man was only a few steps ahead of Dr. Lecter, suddenly turning around to face the criminal in a fluid moment with confidence, walking back the way he came, accidently bumping into the Doctor. It struck Anthony then that the man must be a thief, tailoring the Doctor. What didn't strike Anthony was the way Dr. Lecter's hand moved swiftly to the young man's stomach before disappearing as the criminal went on his way. The thief stood stationary in the street, his hands resting where Dr. Lecter's hand had made contact with his stomach moments ago before disappearing into the crowd.

The man with the dark coat whom Anthony had spotted in the market approached the young thief, blocking the boy's view, but no fast enough for Anthony not to see the blood pouring from the man's stomach. The older man half carried the thief over to a corner and hovered over him, speaking to the man before noticing the stomach puncture and attempting to cover it.

Anthony moved closer to the pair, his idea of following Dr. Lecter abandoned as he saw the young thief pant heavily with the flow of blood leaking from his fractured skin. The older man was casting his eyes out across the area to see anyone watching when he caught the young boy's eye.

'Go!' The man moved a bloody hand in a sweeping motion and Anthony was not sure if the man had spoken in English or Italian, but the young boy obeyed and ran from the scene, down the nearest street he could, apologizing to the people he bumped into in the crowds, the sight of blood burning into his maroon eyes as they shifted through the darkened streets, shadows hiding in corners and doorways. Anthony's legs ran as fast as he could make them down a gentle sloping street as he desperately tried to remember his way back to either the hotel or the restaurant, but he took one wrong turn and ran straight into someone's strong stance, forcing Anthony backwards. He looked up to stutter an apology to whoever it was, but night had truly fallen and the man's hat covered his features.

'Sorry sir!' Anthony called as he stood back to run in the opposite direction but the man's hand whipped out to grasp his upper arm. Anthony looked back to see a light cast along the features of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. All words died in the boy's voice as he saw the killer's maroon eyes blaze in the heat of murder.

Anthony opened his mouth to scream, to force his vocal cords to call out for help, to tell everyone who was here but Lecter's hand covered the boy's mouth and he was dragged into the dark depths of a side door.

'Now now, don't be causing a scene young man, we wouldn't want everyone to know who I am now would we?' Anthony stood in frozen fear, his eyes wide and pupils dilated.

'Now, I believe you were dining in the same restaurant as I was previously this evening, am I correct?' Anthony mumbled into the man's hands, the smallest specks of blood on his fingernails were noticeable.

'No no, blink once for no, twice for yes.'

Anthony blinked twice.

'Good boy. Now, you were following me this evening, am I right in thinking you know who I am?'

Two more blinks covered the younger maroon eyes.

'Well then, we can't have everyone knowing that can we. Have you told anyone else about your little detective work?'

One blink was all that was needed, as Anthony's eyes showed the truth behind his blinks.

'Okay then.' He removed his hand from around Anthony's mouth, but kept a strong vice like grip on his arm. 'What's your name?' It took a minute for the man's words to process in the boy's head but he eventually responded.

'Anthony Howell.'

'Nice to meet you Anthony Howell. That accent tells me you're American. May I say Washington D.C.?' Anthony shook his head.

'Connecticut.' Dr. Lecter hummed for a second before keeping the grip on Anthony's arm and led him out of the doorway.

'Okie dokie then. I believe it's time for you to return to your parents, as I believe they shall be extremely worried about you. I shall escort you back to the restaurant.' Anthony gulped audibly at Lecter's words and the man chuckled deeply.

'Don't worry young Anthony, I don't harm children.' Nobody should take the word of an escaped killer such as Hannibal Lecter, but Anthony found himself believing the man's words as the walked up streets as far away from the crime scene as they could get without plunging deeper into the heart of Florence. They walked in silence through the night until they approached the plaza where the restaurant had been situated. Before Anthony could run Lecter kept his vice like grip on the boy's arm until he cried out in a sudden shot of pain. Lecter suddenly let go as quick as he could upon hearing the sound of pain. Anthony was now free and standing before Dr. Lecter in the light of the moon. The man leant forward so he was eye to eye with the young boy.

'Now, you know who I am. I would not like it if others were to find out, it wouldn't make me very happy now would it Anthony?' Anthony shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Dr. Lecter's. Hannibal gave a small grin and patted the boy's head, taking care not to strike any more fear into the boy.

'Now it was foolish for you to try to follow me, you could have gotten hurt. I do believe it would be in both our best interests if you did not speak a word of this to anyone. I would hate it if my vacation here was rudely interrupted, wouldn't you Anthony?' The boy didn't respond. Dr. Lecter returned with his small grin and motioned for the boy to run inside the plaza to his parents. He could see the boy had been scared into submission; therefore his cover here was not as compromised as it could be. All there was left was Pazzi, the man was tip-toing around the fringes.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter watched the boy dash into the restaurant where his mother grasped him tightly in her arms, not letting go of as she shook him and shouted and cried. He was confident the boy would not tell anyone of his identity, even if he did it was unlikely anyone would believe him. The boy's father joined the duo in seconds. Hannibal took note how the boy looked nothing like his parents; both were fair haired and more round faced, where as the boy stood out with his dark ebony hair and strong stature.

'_Clarice.' _

Lecter shook himself mentally. Whenever he looked at the boy he saw Special Agent Clarice Starling, the lack of resemblance between the parents and child making him see Clarice all the more, but Lecter brushed it off. He was satisfied now for his hunger of Clarice Starling, as he had sent her the letter, written by his hand. It would do for now.

With one sweep of his long overcoat, Dr. Lecter disappeared into the night, fully aware of the maroon eyes that watched him from over their mother's shoulder across the plaza.

_**There we go. That's the first time I've written speech and all for Hannibal Lecter. How'd I do? I'm not that confident yet with working with such complex characters so feedback is much appreciated. So I'll try and update within the next week, and also thanks to everyone's read, reviewed and followed this story, means a lot guys :D **_

_**Also, sorry if the timings seem a bit scrambled, I'm trying to make it all fit together like the idea I have in my head. **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hey there guys, new chapter time! Woo! I've been away all week but the first thing I did when I got home was watch Silence of the Lambs and Hannibal straight away…I think I may have a slight obsession, oh well. Anyways, thanks to everyone who's reviewed and don't worry, they are due to all meet up very soon. I've made this chapter extra long for all of you. Again, sorry if it seems I'm rushing through this story. **_

_**Hannibal – Plus One**_

A light rain had embraced Florence the last few days, although warmer than the ice, which would fall upon their home in Connecticut, the travelling family of three did not explore in as much depth until the rain had left the city. Now the stars gleamed from above like diamonds on a sheet of dark silk as Anthony trailed along the cobblestone roads behind his parents. Even at night, Florence did not sleep.

A cooling breeze of the late hour swept over them as light as a feather as they entered the square before the Capponi library. Anthony's head swiveled up the road towards the building in the night, but saw not the person he feared but was also curious over. The young boy's trainer clad feet slowed to a halt in the street, his parents unaware as they continued, as he continued to gaze up at the building which was near silhouetted against the darkness of the sky. The square around them was flooded with tourists of all cultures, enjoying the rich history that surrounded them. As a breeze ruffled his ebony hair, Anthony's maroon eyes took in his surroundings, from the Japanese tourists opposite the Capponi library to the two men sat on the bonnet of an old blue van to his far left, one smoking a cigarette whilst speaking his native tongue into a mobile phone, the man's eyes watching as the flood gates of the Capponi library opened and scholars walked into the welcoming light breeze of the night.

'_He's in there…' _Anthony's eye's scaled the building, looking for any sign of the supposed 'Dr. Fell', but saw nothing.

He moved deeper into the square, closer to his parents who were indulged with the local's performing a small silent play, dressed in gold. Young maroon eyes spied a small balcony above the main door had been pulled open, the faint outline of a man in a suit could be seen but his identity was a mystery. The small feet walked across the square's threshold to the steps to the Capponi library, watching, head titled up like a handful of other tourists, all watching the opened balcony door. From his position on the ground, Anthony had the best view of the shadows moving across the balcony door, but vision was not needed once the sound similar to a lifting crane was heard.

Anthony looked up to see a form suspended upon a lift, eyes fearfully glancing over the square around the building, seeking out help. The man's fear-filled eyes looked down upon Anthony and began shaking his head, struggling against the silver tape that silenced him.

Anthony's eyes identified his face as the man who was the only other surviving stalker of the infamous cannibal the previous night.

Another figure was walking around the man's suspended form, clearly the infamous cannibal himself, a small knife in his hands gleaming with its severity and danger.

Faster than a single intake of oxygen, faster than a heartbeat, the knife in the criminal's hand swiped across the suspended man and soon the body was toppled over, not before the stomach contents were spilled from the sliced skin. Anthony first heard and saw the man's mobile telephone smash before his feet, but the bowels never made it to the ground as they reached the top of the ebony hair, staining the ivory skin and oversized Looney Tunes shirt of Anthony Howell.

The warm blood trickled through the roots of his hair as the screams of people around him trailed through his ears, slower than the blood now flowing down his arms and dripping from his fingertips. The organs themselves had slipped to the stone ground, in a messy puddle around his trainers, as the blood continued to drip like a faulty tap. The maroon of his eyes shortened as his pupils dilated as the strong metallic taste of blood trailed over his lips and onto his tongue. The taste was both revolting as well as sharp as it stained his teeth, now matching what little of his maroon eyes could be seen. The said eyes were still up cast, meeting the grinning face of the infamous killer who happened to look over to inspect his work, to catch the young boy's eyes. Despite the cries and calls of his parents and tourists around him, Anthony continued to look up and could not help but mirror the small grin Dr. Lecter was shooting the boy.

Voices rang in his ears as his mother and father violently shook him, desperately crying for him to respond, but no attention was given. The parents looked up to the balcony to see the man give a small wave to the slightly grinning boy and then across the square as if to an invisible audience.

Anthony's mother cried and screamed as she hugged her son's frame to him, clutching her husband's hand as the man shouted rude profanity up at Dr. Lecter. Dr. Lecter himself merely raised his eyebrow in clear distaste before one more small grin to Anthony and disappearing into the darkness of the Capponi library.

Hands from all around grappled at him, like a lifeline.

Voices called in various languages, voicing concern as a claxon began to sound.

Anthony ignored everyone around him, only paying a slight heed to the two men from the blue van running into the Capponi library, the gleam of a gun in one's hand.

Before anything could be processed, the familiar hands of his father scooped him up as he did when he was a toddler and carried him off. Anthony buried his face in his father's shirt as he felt his mother nit pick at his hair, the three of them rushing across the square away from the dangers that presented itself. Winds whispered his name over and over in the raspy metallic voice of Dr. Hannibal Lecter as they rushed through the streets, but it was all soon interrupted as Anthony's face made contact with the cool stone paving's, although painful it was a blessing for his flushed face. The young boy picked himself up to see a group of rather violent looking men surrounding them, cursing them angrily in Italian, before the boots made contact with the stomach's of his parents.

Meaty hands held Anthony at bay as the thieves stripped his parents of any expensive possessions before the boots made the sickening thud that left the bodies limp and lifeless in the darkened street. The meaty hands kept the strong grip across Anthony's waist and face as they began to move away, but the small white teeth embedded in Anthony's jaw tore at the calloused skin of the man. The boy was dropped carelessly in the street as they fled; screaming in Italian before silence was in the night, save from the distant ring of the claxon.

There was no spilled blood save from the stains that donned his ivory skin. The boy curled up to the lifeless bodies as their warmth left their bodies. He could hear the claxon and distant voices but he heard none of this as he stayed down between the limp bodies of his parents.

Florence truly does not sleep at night.

**XXX-xxx-XXX**

The metallic taste of blood, which had burned his lips, was now insufferable. He could feel it coursing through his veins, unable to stop the feeling as he began to drown. Hands grappled and grasped at him, but not to help, no, to push him deeper into the pool of blood, which was replacing his oxygen at an alarming rate.

He wanted to scream. He needed to scream. He screamed in the pool, feeling the silent bubbles stroking his face as he drowned, the metallic taste was overwhelming; it was all that existed alongside the warmth of the blood.

He couldn't see it but his imagination picked up the pieces, hallucination for the lack of reality as all there was in his eyes was darkness.

Hands from the bottom of the pool grasped at him as they shook him in the blood, willing his death to be silent. The shakes were persistent until the darkness was replaced by the bright burning light of an artificial light overhead, as well as the sunlight streaming in through a small window besides him.

He still felt hands grasping at him and as his vision cleared from the fog of sleep, he realized he was situated in a rather comfy leather seat onboard a plane. The hands that grasped him were large and, upon turning his head, belonged to Hannibal Lecter. The man's maroon eye's gleamed with the morning light streaming through the window of the plane and Anthony opened his mouth to force his vocal cords to the point of insanity, but one hand was clamped firmly over his hand at a strong angle to stop him from biting down.

'Now young Anthony, people are trying to sleep onboard. I urge you not to make a scene.' The scream that was building up died down instantly and all tension was gone as Dr. Lecter smiled and winked his left eye before moving his hand away from Anthony's face.

'Good boy. Now tell me, how do you feel? Nauseated? Light headed? I'm afraid I had to sedate you after I found you as you would have caused such a scene when it came to boarding the train and the plane.'

'You drugged me!' It was such an accusation that the young boy's voice went rather high pitched, much to Dr. Lecter's amusement.

'I'm afraid so. You've not missed much I assure you, just over a day. I found you in that street with the lifeless corpses you may still refer to as your parents. I'm afraid those murderous thugs have been terrorizing tourists for quite some time now, unfortunate you had to see that side of Italy.'

Anthony fidgeted in his seat and briefly glanced out the window to see the wing of the plane cut through golden clouds in the silky sky.

'Where are we?' Anthony's voice whispered, trying to mask the squeak of terror.

'About half an hour from Simsbury, Connecticut.' Anthony frowned at the name of his hometown being the Dr.'s choice of destination. The said Dr. simply smiled.

'I found the address of your hotel in your father's pocket. I collected your passport and a fresh shirt as your other was ruined.' Anthony looked to see his Looney Tunes shirt, which had been soaked with blood, had been replaced with his Pokémon shirt. 'And I managed to get us on a train to Rome before boarding this plane. You've slept surprisingly well through the journey until now. Tell me, what did you dream of?'

Anthony's mind returned to the dream. He wasn't certain of whose blood he was drowning in but it felt like it was his own more than anyone else's. He did not say a word of this to Dr. Lecter who watched him curiously before facing forwards. Anthony's fingernails gripped at the armrests of the leather seats, his heart racing.

Normally he was calm. All the doctor's his mother had submitted him to as a younger boy had all claimed he was extremely calm and conditioned for a child, with his heart rate rarely ever reaching over 85 beats per minute in a crisis, but the thumping muscle in his chest must be bang on 85 beats per minute as his knuckles turned white from the grip.

The half an hour of silence stretched for what seemed an eternity in utter silence between Dr. Lecter and Anthony, the only sound being the morning murmurings of the other passengers and the seatbelt sign once it flickered into life. Everyone complied and soon the plane touched down in Simsbury Airport, Connecticut and Anthony attempted to push and shove out of the plane through the crowds of people making their way down the steps into the summer air of Simsbury, but Dr. Lecter was always less than a step behind and reached out, keeping a firm grip on his upper arm as they all departed the plane.

The plane passengers were escorted into the airport to claim their baggage and head out into the city and Anthony remembered less than a week ago, sitting on a metal bench in this very same airport, excited for his first vacation abroad…only for it to end with him returning to the States in the company of a cannibalistic serial killer.

Dr. Lecter kept his hand on Anthony's upper arm but not too rough as to cause a bruise on the boys arm as well as to not bruise the trust he hoped to build in the boy, as that would certainly not go down too well.

Dr. Lecter had left all belongings back in Florence as none was worth the effort to pack, he had everything he needed in his pockets which would allow him to access his accounts under the many different names.

Even in the early hours, the airport was beginning to become overcrowded but thankfully they managed to get to the exit with no trouble. Anthony breathed in the warm air and felt the wave nauseating sickness wash over him at the thought of being so close to home, yet so far away as well.

Anthony believed he could just run, run out of the airport; find someone who would help him escape. But then what? He had no one to go to, his whole world had been painted red. If he went back to the world he was raised in, then where would he go? True his adoptive family had family and friends but for the rest of his life he would be haunted by what had transpired on what had seemed to be a seemingly average vacation.

Dr. Lecter froze in his movements and crouched down before Anthony, maroon eyes at equal level with maroon eyes. Dr. Lecter studied the boy's face and found his imagination wandering. How much the boy looked like a certain Special Agents made the hairs on his arms stand on end. He even believed to see a reflection of his younger self in young Anthony's face, but of course that was not possible. Hannibal shook himself mentally and switched his eyesight back onto the boy before him.

'Now young Anthony, you're choice: you may do as you wish and seek out help, find someone and tell him or her everything, find solace and start afresh. Or you can accompany myself. It is your choice now.'

**XXX-xxx-XXX**

Beneath the active building, Special Agent Clarice Starling sat curled up on the plastic sofa in her basement office, files strewed across her lap and the sofa as she watched the home-video quality video. The man in the video just visible, waving at the camera.

Was it goodbye?

Or hello?


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hey guys! Time for a new chapter! Sorry this one's a little bit later than normal, but it's here now! I hope you like, especially with what happens in this chapter. **_

_**Hannibal – Plus One **_

Streets, homes, building and even mailboxes began to look more and more familiar to Anthony as Dr. Lecter drove the 'borrowed' car from the airport into the more suburban areas of Simsbury. They were well out of the city now and Anthony spied the sign, which labeled his street. The young boy began to fidget in his seat as Dr. Lecter parked the car across the street from his home. It was eerie how average it was – undisturbed by all that had happened to it's owners, no outside difference: it was still the two-story house with the peeling paint and the dent in the fence where a car had backed up into it. The engine stopped and Anthony just sat in silence, aware of Dr. Lecter watching him observe his house.

From silence and stillness, Anthony unbuckled his seatbelt and charged out of the car like a cannon ball shot from the cannon he once observed at the circus.

Hannibal Lecter watched as the small boy pulled himself up the steps, recovered a key from under the mat and pushed his way into the house. Young Anthony had opted to stay with the criminal whom had brought him back to the states – it seemed the boy was in a state of daze and confusion with the death of his parents, as he was beginning to cling to the Doctor, despite knowing of his identity and his previous. Dr. Lecter wasn't certain why he had allowed the boy to stay with him; he felt a small stab of sympathy, as he too had lost his parents at an early age, left to fend for himself. Once his work in states was complete, he would find the boy a suitable home that he would experience a better upbringing than he himself had as a child.

Why he was concerned over Anthony's well being was still a mystery, despite the small piece of sympathy, he had never thought of children and never associated with any since he was one himself. Hannibal unbuckled his own seatbelt and climbed out of the newly possessed station wagon and crossed the suburban street towards the home of Anthony Howell. He closed the front door behind him to avoid any interested passing eyes. The house was relatively small but clearly lived in and had history within the walls.

Hannibal heard shuffles from the kitchen and entered to see Anthony pushing a stool up towards the higher cupboards. The boy opened the door and attempted to reach a tin at the far back, clearly to keep away from his hands.

_The first thing he does is go for something his parent's never allowed him to do, interesting. _

Hannibal walked the short length over and reached into the cupboard for the young boy and handed him the metal tin.

'Thank you.' The automatic manner response his parents had conditioned him to showed, but his eyes were more focused on the tin. The boy unscrewed the lid and retrieve the yellow packed of a Butterfinger.

'Would you like one sir?' Anthony held out the tin with one hand whilst he crammed the chocolate into his mouth, smearing across his face in the process. Hannibal gave the boy a small smile as he declined, but mentioned to the boy he could take as much as he liked and Anthony was more than happy to fill his pockets with more Butterfingers, Milky Way bars and many the treats his parents used as rewards. Once the tin was polished clean of treats Hannibal re-attached the lid and pushed it back into the cupboard.

'I suggest you go and collect some items of clothing and whatever else you would like to take with you as you won't be returning any time soon.' Anthony nodded and jumped down from his stool and charged up the stairs, as if this were routine. Hannibal followed the boy, glancing across the possessions of the Howell family that now technically belonged to Anthony.

Once Hannibal reached the right room, Anthony had already thrown a backpack on his bed, stuffed it with what little clothes he wanted and was currently shuffling under the bed, throwing long forgotten toys out from underneath his bed. He came out moments later, hair mussed up, holding a small dented Rubix cube.

The younger maroon eyes inspected the cube as his hands twisted the sides slowly, taking in all the small details before he stops and buries it within his rucksack before being crushed by a small teddy bear which had been hidden under the superman duvet covering Anthony's bed. His parents had always said he was too old for the bear but it had been there his whole life and stuck by his side in sentiment.

Hannibal watched as Anthony zipped up the rucksack and the man moved forth to help the boy as he struggled with the straps of his bag.

'Is that everything?' Hannibal asked, as Anthony looked around his room once more, mouth slightly open.

'I think so.' Anthony whispered as he eyed the remainder of his toys scattered across his carpet, knowing he would never sit there again with his own imagination. As Anthony's eyes scanned his house once more the boy spied the television cabinet in the living room and rushed forth to open the small wooden doors.

'I thought you claimed to have everything?' Hannibal was aware time would soon be against them, as the authorities would wonder where the boy had gone to once they found the corpses of his parents.

'I want the photo album.' Anthony called and Hannibal supposed it was a reasonable request. He moved slowly into the living room as Anthony pulled his head out of the cupboard, standing up with a thick book over spilling with papers in his hand. The boy subconsciously opened the middle pages and flurry of pages fell to the floor, distributed across the living room rug. Hannibal crouched down and helped Anthony scoop up the papers and stack them back in the album. One paper fluttered out of Anthony grasp and Hannibal, catching it, read the title of the page to be _'Certificate of Adoption'_.

Hannibal had suspected from the boy's lack of resemblance to his parents to be adopted, but clearly Anthony had not been aware as he stared at the certificate, maroon eyes fading before he threw the album to the ground with a heavy thud and ran from the house. Hannibal watched the boy slam the front door behind him and stood to follow, not before looking back down at the sheet.

The signatures for the Howell's at the bottom in the box for the designated adoptive parents, but one signature on the paper caused a sudden stop in his heart before the muscle worked itself into frenzy. The line for the birth father's signature was blank, but the mother's signature was present and as his maroon eyes travelled over the curve of the signature his heart well exceeded 85 beats per minute. The name was printed beneath the signature but he knew that hand off by heart, the curve of the 'S' and the loop of the 'G'. Despite his confidence of remembrance of the signature he still read the name printed beneath the line for certainty as at this moment in time, he felt incapable of relying on his own memory.

The print confirmed the name of the birth mother: _Clarice Starling. _

**XXX-xxx-XXX**

Anthony sat on the stone steps of his house, hugging his knees from beneath his shorts.

Adopted.

_Adopted. _

He's always believed himself to be not a full Howell, maybe having a different father to whom his mother was married to and he called 'Dad', but to find neither of those people were his real family tore him up inside little by little that small tears dripped down his face. Who was he? Really? Was his name even Anthony? Anthony Thomas Howell is what he had been labeled as his whole life, but was that his name? It was a no on Howell, but had his real parent's named him or had Jacob and Lucy Howell named him? And where was he from? And his real parents? Had they died or simply not wanted him, chucking him to a charity shop like some unwanted…thing?

So many questions were building up inside him they came out in tear form, cascading down his cheeks to stain his clothing. He blocked out the real world as much as he could, that was until voices reached him and the small stone grazed his knee. Anthony looked up through tear stained eyes to see two teenage boys on bikes in oversized leather jackets to be laughing, one throwing another rock which scraped against the back of Anthony's hand.

'What's up baby? Mommy take away your sandbox?' One jeered and the other juggled with another stone before aiming it. Anthony's eyes squeezed shut on instinct, expecting the rock to hot a better target but it never came. He opened his eyes daringly to see the boys blocked by Dr. Lecter's form, who had grabbed both boys off their bikes by their shirts. The man had never seem so dangerous and terrifying before Anthony, not even when he had murdered the young man back in Florence. Hannibal's face was dangerously close to the boys', teeth bared like a wild animal and a blazing anger in his eyes burning fiercely as he shifted his line of vision between the two.

'If either of you ever _dare_ try to hurt him again, I'm afraid I won't be able to control myself when it comes to leaving both of your corpses intact.' Hannibal pushed the two away and they scrambled back on their bikes and pedaled away as fast as they could. Hannibal's gaze burnt their backs as he watched the two disappear from sight, before standing with his back straight to see Anthony still sitting on the step, his eyes red. He moved over to the boy (who again squeezed his eyes shut in fear of the man's sudden violent outburst) and sat besides him on the step. As Anthony continued to keep his eyes tightly closed, Hannibal took the unobserved moment to examine the boy's features. It was true the boy had many of Clarice Starling's features, such as the shape of his nose and jawline, but the other features…they were _his. _

The adoption form had given Anthony's date of birth, which happened to be in mid 1991, just less than nine months since his last physical encounter with Clarice Starling. Hannibal closed his eyes as he relived those hours he shared with Clarice, tangled in her embrace, a daydream he had dared not believe would ever happen. Upon re-opening his eyes he saw Anthony's tear rimmed eyes gazing up at him. Hannibal stared back before rising from the stone steps and facing Anthony. He extended a hand and the tear stained boy observed the hand before reaching out and taking it, hiccupping as he rose to his feet. Anthony kept a tight grip of Hannibal's hand and the Doctor looked down at the small hand incased in his larger one.

His child, his son.

Hannibal gave the boy a small warm grin and lead the boy away from the house back towards he parked station wagon.

'_Perhaps it's time for a small family reunion,' _Hannibal thought to himself with a small smile as he placed Anthony's rucksack on the back seat of the car as the young boy fastened himself in.

Anthony didn't even look back at his house as they drove off in the direction of the state of Washington, D.C.

**XXX-xxx-XXX**

Clarice's blue eyes scanned over the report of the hollowed out body of Inspector Pazzi. Clarice closed her eyes and shook away the guilt that was attempting to creep up on her. She'd warned him, she'd done all she could from her basement here in the FBI building yet the man still met his death at the hands of Hannibal Lecter…the same hands that had once cradled her one single night like she was a fragile piece of glass.

'_No.'_ Clarice whispered to herself as the memories flooded back at demand. She couldn't afford to be thinking about either of them at this moment at time. As far as she knew, the offspring of that night was in safe hands, away from herself or Dr. Lecter.

Once again she focused her attention on the death reports she'd been submitted. Upon seeing the body hanging out of the window, the people in the area had rushed off in frenzy, some resulting in nasty accidents that were being pointed at the blame of Dr. Lecter. One person had been hit by on coming traffic, as she'd ran from the scene in horror, another was trampled by the fleeing crowd. Clarice flicked through the report she came across another certified death near the scene. A couple from Connecticut had been touring Florence and had been mugged and murdered. Witness claimed they had been witnesses to the hanging of Inspector Pazzi but fled the scene with everyone else with their son. Clarice flicked through the report and found that the couple's child who'd been with them was now registered as missing. A flyer had been attached at the end and Clarice shifted through the stack to put it with the death report.

'_Poor kid, talk about a vacation gone wrong,' _Clarice thought as she pulled out the missing person's poster.

Her heart stopped.

Printed maroon eyes looked up from the paper deep inside her own blue eyes. The picture was a school photo; a boy in the third grade with hair his mother had clearly combed neatly in a wrinkle free shirt smiled up at the picture. Maroon eyes, ebony hair darker than night.

_Those eyes. _

Clarice knew those eyes: they were forever burned in her mind, forever more. Her heart began to pound furiously in her ribcage, threating to burst through the skin.

She gripped the 'MISSING' poster in her hand until it crinkled as she moved across the threshold of her office and reached her allocated computer. She logged on and began trolling the files which had been uploaded the to server. She found the death report and clicked the link for the boy's missing person's report. The same image downloaded onto the screen, the same smiling face, and the same maroon eyes. Clarice's own eyes scanned the bio information on the young boy.

_Name: Anthony Thomas Howell_

_DOB: June 12__th__ 1991_

_Height: 4'6_

_Eye Color: Brown/Red_

_Hair Color: Black/Brown_

_Status: Missing – last known location: Florence, Italy. _

_Medical Issues: None_

_Notes: Adoption confirmed June 12__th__ 1991_

There was no further information, but the date of birth, the eyes, the date of adoption was all too accurate for it to be a coincident. She would make phone calls and begin looking for the boy's adoption record, but she knew the answer already. Clarice felt her eyes begin to sting as she stared longingly at the screen and then down at the crinkled image in her hands.

Her son had been in Florence at the same time as Hannibal Lecter…his father, and was now missing. Clarice held the picture up to her heart and heard the tear drop splash on the keyboard as she hugged the image tightly, as it was the closest she had ever been to holding her son who'd she'd tried not to think of everyday for the last nine years.

Was her son in the company of Hannibal Lecter? Clarice closed her eyes and breathed deep as the possibilities washed over her.

_**There we go, 8 long pages for you guys. Hope you liked it. Also, a shout out to Frankfurt who guessed the way I was going to have Hannibal find out Anthony's identity. So I think I'll have Clarice, Hannibal and Anthony meet up in the next chapters, what do you guys think? Please feel free to comment your opinions and ideas and stuff and thanks for reading! I'll try and get the next chapter up soon for you all. **_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Hi guys, so sorry it's been a while but the new chapter has arrived! Que the happiness! Thanks for all the reviews: you guys seem to like the idea of the family reunion, so I think I'd better get on with, hadn't I? Hope you like this and feel free to review ;) **_

_**Hannibal – Plus One **_

The rumbling engine of the stolen car was switched off as they pulled up across the street from the home of Clarice Starling. Night was still thick upon them and all that Hannibal could hear was his own steady breathing and the chirps of nocturnal animals. However, one other noise was far from peaceful. Hannibal's maroon eyes travelled to the back seat where, beneath a tattered blanket, Anthony lay on the back seat, furiously battling with the invisible demons of sleep. The boy's eyes were squeezed shut tight and he was grasping at his own hair as he moaned and whimpered in his sleep.

A hand reached into the back of the car and rested itself on the boy's forehead. Hannibal shushed the boy until the frights died down. Anthony had been reluctant to sleep at all in his presence, but after a day of setting up Paul Krendler's lake house, the boy was visibly fatigued. All through the day he'd asked questions about why they needed all the cooking equipment, the tailor made suits and if the lake house was Hannibal's. The man would often answer with cryptic answers that baffled Anthony, leading to him not questioning anything further.

Once certain the boy was safe and settled, Hannibal left the car parked and locked before proceeding the creep through the night towards the house of Clarice. It was too easy and simple to get into the supposedly locked front door. Hannibal made a note to bring up her lacking security.

Inside, the house was calm and silent. Clarice had clearly not intended to fall asleep, as she had left the cupboard light on, as well as the sitting room. Hannibal moved slowly with formality, as if he'd practiced. In a sense, he had practiced: on their last day together, he had left as silently as he could, not to disturb the beautiful Clarice who had laid in a tangle of sheets. He cautiously made his way into the sitting room and reached out to switch the lamp off, encasing the room in a blanket of darkness as his shadow moved around the room. Clarice had fallen into slumber within an old floral patterned chair in her sitting room, a tumbler of cheap looking alcohol resting on the arm. Hannibal gently placed the glass on the side table, making as little noise as possible. In the dark, he moved to stand before her, drinking in her features of sleep – identical to the last time he'd laid eyes on her. He could not help himself as a hand reached back and stroked her hair back behind her ear. She leaned into the touch but remain asleep. As she moved Hannibal heard the distinctive sound of paper crinkling. Upon inspection of Clarice's form, he noticed the paper tucked between her and the chair. Carefully as he could, he retrieved the papers and stood back from Clarice as he eyed them.

There were two: a Missing Person's flyer, featuring the face of the sleeping child in the car. All the biography needed in a missing person's report were displayed below the picture and Hannibal memorized every word. The last object was an envelope, smelling of age and dust. It had been opened but Hannibal could tell Clarice had been too afraid to remove its contents. There was only one thing within: A single photograph. Hannibal held it in his hands as carefully as he could, as holding the photo was as close as he could ever get to cradle the newborn shown on the image. The child looked merely days old, dark hair already thick upon the small head, whilst dressed in a blue body suit which somehow held a resemblance to his old blue prison garb.

Hannibal decided to let the sleeping child sleep. He set up all he needed in Clarice's home and left, the photograph safely within his pocket.

**XXX-xxx-XXX**

Clarice heard the buzz of the phone in her dreams before she awoke. She would never admit it to herself, or anyone else, but she wished she could have stayed with the dream, with the two others she'd dreamt about. But the phone was resilient and determined to be answered. She opened her blue eyes blearily to see the flicker of the two candles before her. She looked down to the magazine, displaying the advertisement for the label, the cutting of her head placed where the model's should have been. Lying next to the magazine, placed neatly was the missing person's flyer for Anthony Howell. She hadn't done any of this and she remembered to be holding the flyer before she fell asleep.

Her thoughts trailed instantly to whom could have been in her house. She remembered the ringing phone and left the chair to answer it. All her suspicions were answered when Dr. Hannibal Lecter's voice filled her ear once she answered with 'Hello'.

'_Hello again Clarice. Now, the power in that battery is low. I would have changed it but I didn't want to wake you. You're going to have to use the other one, in the charger; hopefully the light on it is green by now.'_ Clarice listened as Dr. Lecter spoke of her not abandoning her duties. He gave her three seconds to swap the batteries. She managed it in two and began rifling through her closet for her gun. Dr. Lecter praised her fast skills and began discussing the fact that they both knew Clarice would take a firearm with her. But Clarice didn't listen to him. She tried to strain her ears to hear anything on the other end of the phone, or rather, anyone. But of course Hannibal Lecter would know what she was trying to do.

'_Now Clarice, I assure you he is perfectly fine. In fact, I think he want's to say hello_.' Clarice felt her blood freeze and her heart stop. She heard a faint discussion in the back ground, but couldn't make any words out until a child's voice could be hear – not at the phone, but rather calling out to it.

'_Hello Agent Starling?' The_ voice was gone as soon as it was there and Clarice lost the feeling in her legs as she slid down the wall of her home, the gun lay un-thought of at her feet. Her pulse was erratic and tears dared to spill over the edge of her eyes.

'_If you are wondering, Clarice,'_ Lecter was back. _'He does not know_ _anything. I was rather hoping you would be kind enough to shed the light for him. I found out myself by chance and it was rather a shock, I'd rather have it explained to him.' _

_He doesn't know_

Clarice stood up and retrieved her gun. She checked the amount of ammunition within the weapon before leaving her home and climbing into her car. Her heart was racing manically within her at such a fast rate she was shocked the beating muscle hadn't burst her skin. As she drove off she was briefly aware of the van behind her that seemed to be tailoring her. Was it just her nerves playing hell?

She drove out into town, her heart really pumping now. Where was he telling her to go? Would he make her drive to him? Would she see them both?

'_The reason we're doing this like this Clarice, is because I like to watch you as we speak. With your eyes open.'_ The Doctors voice was playing on every word he could as he spoke and directed her towards where ever he planned to meet up. As she drove towards where ever, Clarice kept her eyes peeled, especially with the van she was now certain were tailoring her. It wasn't the FBI, nor did it seem to be Doctor Lecter behind the wheel. She diverted her attention as Lecter, over the phone, told her to head towards Union Station. If he was inside she'd have a hard time finding him.

**XXX-xxx-XXX**

'…my life? What is there to say about my life? I've been in a state of…hibernation. A little inactive. But now I'm back home. I've very happy and very healthy. Along with my new companion I picked up on my travels. What were the odds, Clarice? That I would find him?' Hannibal turned in his driver's seat to the now awake Anthony besides him, the young boy focusing his attention on the toy he'd brought with him, unaware of the turmoil and conflict surrounding his parentage and the world around him.

'You though,' Hannibal continued. 'It's you I'm worried about.'

'_I'm fine_.' Clarice's voice buzzed through the headphones.

'No you're certainly not fine Clarice. You fell in love with the bureau: the institution only to discover after giving them everything you've got, that it does not love you back.' Hannibal caught Anthony's attention after seeing Clarice pull up not too far away for the young boy to follow in leaving the car.

'…that in fact it resents you. More than the misunderstood child you gave up to it.' Hannibal saw Clarice freeze as she got out of the car at the last statement.

'Think about it, Clarice, how one word, one accusation would lead to an unforgiving child, wanting nothing to do with you, believing that the bureau was far more important than his life. Tell me Clarice, why do you think? Why do you think you are so resented by the bureau?' Hannibal and Anthony mingled into the crowds leading into Union station pretty well. Hannibal gave the boy some coins to place in a busker's hat before they moved into the station, ahead of Clarice.

'You serve the idea of order, Clarice. They don't. You believe in the oath you took. They don't. You feel it is your duty to protect the sheep…'

Anthony trotted behind Hannibal as they made their way deeper into the station. As Dr. Lecter spoke to whomever the 'Agent Starling' he was told to say hello was. The station was thriving with people enjoying the many forms of entertainment surrounding them. Anthony followed Dr. Lecter's gave to the back of a brown haired woman across the open balcony on the second level. Was she Special Agent Starling? Where had he heard that name before?

Just before they sunk back into the crowds, Anthony saw the brown haired woman look over in their direction and just made eye contact before the swarms around them got thicker.

'Sir, where are we going?' Anthony asked up to Dr. Lecter who placed a finger on the boy's lips and silently shushed him. Dr. Lecter grasped Anthony's hand in his as they continued to walk through the station. Bright lights and music could be heard up ahead and for second, Anthony forgot everything as he let go of Lecter's hand and ran into the arcade area. He stopped before the carousel and smiled with glee at the bright lights designed to attract his young mind.

A hand sprung from nowhere and gripped his shoulder back, dragging him against a solid chest. He looked up to see Dr. Lecter glaring at him for being reckless and running off. The blare of the music was loud and Dr. Lecter knew Clarice would hear it on her end so he decided the best way to blend in was to climb the carousel with the young boy in tow. The ride came to a halt and Hannibal wrapped his hands around Anthony's waist and lifted the young boy up onto a horse. Anthony clutched at the pole extended from the horses head as the carousel began to chant music and turn. Dr. Lecter stood besides him, holding onto the edge of the horse himself. As they spun on the ride, Anthony believed to see the brown haired woman approach the ride, her eyes scanning for…us? She talked into a headphone, similar to Dr. Lecter's and Anthony knew that this was Special Agent Starling. Anthony had been told to say hello to her, but had never met the woman before, although her name seemed to be rather familiar.

Agent Starling turned on the spot, away from the ride as she spoke into the headphone, conversing with Dr. Lecter, who reached out from the ride, his hand just brushing through her hair. Dr. Lecter pulled Anthony off the horse and the two left the ride in the opposite direction, the young boy clinging to the older man's hand as they traveled through the crowds and out of the arcade, both of them fully aware of Agent Starling following them a much closer proximity.

Anthony moved his legs fast to keep up as the Doctor led them through the station towards the food court where nobody could hear themselves think.

Clarice herself struggled to keep up as they moved through the food court, having lost sight of Dr. Lecter and the young boy holding his hand mere seconds ago. She noticed an emergency exit was hanging open and she charged through the crowds, determined not to lose them now, after coming so far and following Dr. Lecter through the station like a lost puppy. She only hoped this was his own precaution due to her followers, rather than just leave her in the station.

However, once Clarice made it outside the back of the food court, she saw her two followers had some hoe gotten ahead and were now tackling Dr. Lecter into the back of van, the license plate missing. Clarice saw one of the men gripping Anthony by his hair and shaking the boy as he fought back, but his small stature and height being a completely overwhelming disadvantage. Clarice felt her hand grip the handle of her gun before she even processed reaching for it, all the focused on the men hurting her son. The man holding Anthony shook the boy before halting upon Clarice calling out:

'Let him go! Now!' She screamed as she advanced. The two men watched silently before throwing Anthony in the back of the van with Dr. Lecter. Clarice screamed her words again and advanced before feeling the blow to the back of her head, her world spinning and flashing numerous different colours. Hands grabbed her sides and she was hauled into the back of the van rather painfully. One man climbed in the back and pulled the doors closed as the engine began to rumble. Clarice saw the man punch Dr. Lecter several times before the man passed out, small flecks of blood donning his lower lip. Clarice saw the man cuff both Dr. Lecter and herself to the wall of the van before using some wire to wrap both of Anthony's wrists together. All the time Clarice never took her eyes of Anthony until the man with the Sardinian accent slapped her and all went black as the van rumbled on.

_**So…not the family reunion you were expecting. It's rare I give people happiness until the end of the story. Hopefully that will satisfy you all until the next chapter. Again, sorry about a long wait. SO I hope you liked it and please feel free to tell me what you think, bad or good I really don't mind – I need to know if I'm giving you all what you want. **_

_**Until the next chapter guys. **_


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